Temperature
by YunCyn
Summary: In which there is a moment of recovery. Followed by drunken warbling. [1shot, mild angst included, HitsuHina.]


**Temperature**

_Disclaimer: Bleach (c) Kubo Tite._

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"_Taichou_."

"Mmm…"

"_Taichou_."

"Mumble mumble…"

Siigh…

"_TAICHOU!"_

"WAAARGH!"

**THUMP!**

"Itai! What the- _Fukutaichou_, what the hell did you think you were doing!"

"Waking you up so you don't drool over your reports, sir."

"…" There is a muttered grumble as he gets to his feet. "I don't drool."

"That's beside my point. Anyway, it's late, _taichou_ and I'd like to get out of here and make the party while I still can."

"What party?"

"The one the vice captains threw together for absolutely no reason other than to drink sake and eat sushi."

"Ah, one of _those_ affairs."

"It's the one that you said I'd be allowed to go to only if I finished all my work. And I've finished my work."

"All of it?"

"Weell… couldn't you settle for most of it?"

"Obviously even if I tell you no, you'd skip out of here the minute I turn my back, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that sir."

"Then what would you say?"

"I don't skip."

"Go. Before you kill me with your brand of logic. But make sure you get here early tomorrow to complete everything."

"Thank you, sir. See ya tomorrow. And get some rest, ne, _taichou_?"

"Yeah, yeah… I warn you though: even if you get hung over tomorrow, you still have to come to work!"

"Hai, hai…"

Hitsugaya scowls as he watches his vice captain sashay out of the office, heading to the venue of said shindig. He doubts if she's missed anything. The party is probably just starting seeing as it's just only half past midnight. All the best sake will be coming out only now and all the bawdy jokes emerging just at this hour.

The reason he knows this is the reason why he doesn't go to this sort of things. He's been to one at some point in the past. He doesn't wish to relive the experience.

Casting his eye on the empty office one last time, he heads out. Walking along the open corridors, he casts shadows against the wooden planks of the place. It is a half moon tonight but the light is strong nonetheless. His footsteps thud against the floor he walked on, going past the tenth division rooms and anteroom, heading straight out of the division lodge.

His quiet walk is filled with the deliberate silence of his mind. He's trained himself, over and over and over again, not to think when he walks along this particular path and to this particular place. It is more than enough already to hear the sounds of the day or the night, seemingly taunting him. To combine his own traitorous thoughts and his betraying emotions?

Only a fool will let himself think at a time like this. And Hitsugaya is not called a genius for nothing.

He stops in front of the door and before he can even announce his presence, the shoji slides away.

"Good morning, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Hitsugaya half bows. Even if he and the one facing him are of the same level, he can't help but feel an extra layer of respect. It is to this person after all, that he owes a lot. "Good morning, Unohana-taichou."

The fourth division captain smiles serenely and steps aside, a silent invitation to enter. She doesn't question his late visit as she has not questioned the others.

Slipping off his footwear, he steps inside. "I'm not disturbing her, I hope."

Noting the lack of attention to anyone but the person he asks about, Unohana shakes her head, hiding her amusement. "We've been sitting on the verandah, drinking tea."

"…did she…" Hitsugaya almost stops then steels himself. Unohana-taichou is one of the last people he believes will make a mountain out of a molehill. "Did she have a nightmare again?"

As expected, there are no gleams in her eyes, no knowing smiles and no hints. "I'm afraid I don't know."

On silent agreement, Unohana-taichou begins walking and Hitsugaya follows. At the entrance to the verandah, she opens another door.

And he can see her sitting near the edge, looking up at the sky. Her back is towards him and a tray with two cups sits on her left.

"I will ready some tea for you, Hitsugaya-taichou."

Unohana leaves as quietly as she came.

With a small breath, he steps through, sliding the door shut behind him. A few steps forward and he comes to a halt beside her on her right. Without saying anything, Hitsugaya sits himself down, letting his legs dangle over the edge like she does.

"Not like you to miss the vices' party."

There is silence and he is not surprised. They both know that she hasn't spoken much ever since her awakening some weeks ago. Effort and special attention from Unohana, care from Matsumoto, Kira and all her other friends and his own silent, subtle watchfulness have sped up her physical recovery. In fact, she has convalesced to the point where one would think she had never been in a coma for over a week.

And then you see her eyes. It's then you realize she still has a long road to walk before she can be restored to her old self. Perhaps even never.

That is why she comes here every so often. It is peaceful here at the fourth division and to the other Shinigami, it can be a place of healing for the mind as well as the body. Unohana-taichou has given her leave to come and go as much as she needs to.

The fourth captain was hardly surprised when Hitsugaya began to show up soon after. Even at the oddest hours, some even later than this one, he seemed to know when she hurt the most as a result of her memories. And if he cannot cut away the memories with his sword, he wishes at least to be the one to break through her reverie and take her away, if only for one second.

But it looks as if that one second is always going to be denied him.

Hitsugaya turns to look at his childhood friend and feels the familiar feeling of hurt at seeing her like this. He knows that as strong as he is and as talented as he is, nothing can defend a person from a sickness that resides inside them.

He isn't really sure whom to hate. Her for doing this to him, Aizen for doing this to them, or himself for still not being strong enough to protect her.

Finally he settles on the easiest choice and blames himself. Because he cannot bring himself to hate her and hating Aizen, on the outside at least, hurts her.

"…I just wanted to be alone tonight."

Her soft voice surprises him but he doesn't show it. He keeps his green eyes on her side profile for one more moment then pulls away to gaze at the moon.

"…you always want to be alone nowadays." He leans on his knees with his forearms. "Matsumoto doesn't say anything but she's worried. And so are the rest of your friends." Releasing a breath, he drawls, in a seemingly bored tone. "Tonight's party was probably supposed to try and cheer you up. And get completely drunk but the main thing was to try and make you happy again."

He's gotten used to doing more of the talking now.

"No point in getting splitting hangovers if you're not there."

There is more silence in the quiet of the late-early hour. He remembers sitting with her like this last time, in the late hours. But back then… back then, they were younger. Back then, they knew nothing of the results of betrayal and the pain of being unable to wash away a wound.

And back then, she would be the one talking while he sat and reveled in the sound of her voice.

But now, in the past weeks that they have done this, there is none of the old warmth and contented quiet. Countless times they have both sat for hours on end in silence after he tires of conversing with apparently just himself. And countless times, she glances at him with an expression that he cannot, but wishes with all the strength in him that he could, erase.

He lets himself sigh a little and continues to stare out into the darkness. The silence has never been so heavy or so large between them.

Then she surprises him again by parting her lips to speak.

"Shiro-chan."

He will not berate her for the use of his old nickname. Instead, he is the one who maintains his silence now, merely turning his head to look at her.

She herself does not look at him straight in the eye, still staring up to the half moon in the sky. Then after a minute of pausing, she releases a breath.

"I'm sorry."

Hitsugaya doesn't have to ask why and what for. She may be apologizing for being so blind. She could be sorry for hurting him by being unable to smile. She could even be saying sorry for calling him "Shiro-chan".

But it really doesn't matter to him. Pulling one leg up and letting the other remain over the edge of the verandah, he turns to her.

"_Baka. _Don't apologize for something you haven't done."

There is a longer silence before she replies, as if thinking things through one at a time.

"I should be the one telling you that, Shiro-chan."

"I'm not the one saying sorry for something I didn't do." And he feels a twinge of guilt at lying to her like that.

"…" She finally turns to him, blue eyes boring into his green ones. "You're the one blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault."

He looks at those eyes of hers that can be so childishly naïve yet so beautiful at the same time. Then he snorts and for the lack of anything better to say, he replies,

"Ch'."

A corner of Hinamori's lips tug upwards.

Somehow, something has gotten through to her.

And Hitsugaya knows she will be alright. He's known it all along because Hinamori Momo isn't as weak as Aizen thinks she is. But this just reassures him, laying the last brick to the wall of belief that she will heal. This is more than the one second of her freedom that he had wished for and he cannot imagine anything better.

Then, just like a tiny butterfly coming to rest on a flower petal, her hand lightly rests on his. He flicks his eyes upwards without moving his head, to see her gently rest her forehead against his own, shutting her eyes.

He closes his own as well, just feeling her breath caress his skin and the touch of her hand on his. Their noses touch each other just as lightly and her fringe lies gingerly against his forehead.

And they remain like that in absolute stillness and peace, something the two of them deserve.

Far be it from the quietly smiling Unohana Retsu, watching silently from the shoji that has been slid three inches open, to ponder on how many things this gesture means and how many things are being exchanged silently between the two. All she can guess is that perhaps, from now onwards, Hinamori-san will not need to visit the fourth division verandah so often.

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- 

Yachiru and Yumichika's rendition of _"I Can't Help Falling In Love With You" _resounds very loudly from a certain far-off area in Seireitei around quarter past two. Around them, sit crimson tinged Kira, cheering the caterwaulers on and half drunk Kiyone, uncharacteristically pleading with Isane to join her in a karaoke session. One can always tell Kotetsu Isane is drunk when she actually agrees to sing _"Hello Dolly"_ with her sister. Sentarou is wondering how a giraffe with fairy wings got into Soul Society.

Oomaeda may be half drunk but that isn't hampering his ability to consume what's left of the sushi with the capacity of a vacuum cleaner. Renji is holding his own sake bottle and arm wrestling with Hisagi, both of whom look like victims of a make up artist who'd gone insane with the rouge. The first vice captain, who made a rare appearance, is in conversation with Nanao. Ikkaku and Tetsuzaemon are having a perfectly logical competition of who can get drunk faster. Nemu is still sober and watching quietly.

And Matsumoto looks on at the chaos in satisfaction.

But then, she sighs a little, it's not quite the same as the parties before the whole mess of Aizen and gang arose. The whole picture isn't complete until someone who usually passes out after drinking at least ten cups of sake is here.

And quite frankly, she doesn't think that person will show up for any more parties.

"Matsumoto!"

The tenth division vice captain whirls around at that very familiar sounding yell.

"Good grief, you're going to have Yamamoto-soutaichou coming down here soon at the racket you're all making!"

Still silent, she meets the two halfway with a look of surprise on her face. Hitsugaya quirks an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you're that drunk until you can't remember who we are."

Matsumoto's eyes flick from Hitsugaya to Hinamori who smiles slightly at her and then downwards to where her captain and the fifth division vice captain's hands are clasped.

A smile appears on her face and she smoothly replies, "Of course not, _taichou_. You know I hold my liquor better than anyone here."

Hitsugaya smirks. And despite himself and his dislike for these raucous gatherings, he asks, "You got room for two more?"

Matsumoto looks at Hinamori who smiles a familiar sheepish smile that the tenth vice captain remembers before the younger girl's coma. She grins, her spirits rising.

"It's never too late to party with us. C'mon."

As Hitsugaya parties with the rest (well, just scowling and eating sushi anyway), he watches Hinamori slowly remember that the world isn't made out of a bespectacled captain with a deceptively kind smile. He can see her recalling that not everyone will betray her so harshly.

And when Hinamori turns to look at him and gives him a grateful smile which he returns, he remembers having this thought:

A certain traitor had better wish he be found by a captain other than him. Because, despite any and all repercussions Hitsugaya may suffer, there won't be enough pieces of Aizen left to even fill a salt shaker if the tenth captain ever catches him first.

But for now, he pushes away pleasant thoughts of dismembering the ex-captain. Instead, he focuses on watching Hinamori, his Hinamori, in the midst of the happy drunken chaos and waits for her next smile.

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_The End._

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**A/N: **For those of you who are wondering why the _heck_ is this story titled "Temperature", let me just tell you a tiny story.

This fic is based on a beautiful Japanese fan art I found that has Hitsugaya and Hinamori with their foreheads touching and her hand on his. (Some of you HitsuHina fans may have found this picture already, I'm sure). This picture's address had the word "taion" in it. "Taion" is Japanese for "body temperature". Putting one's forehead to another belonging to a person with fever is a way of guessing how high the temperature is – thus the title "Taion" for the picture and "Temperature" for this story.


End file.
